Voices of Home
by Daryth Lei
Summary: After leaving El Dorado, an unexpected language barrier comes up between Tulio, Miguel and Chel. Tulio POV, slight angst warning.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** So basically, this came out of the fact that I'm a language nerd. I rewatched RtED recently, and found myself wondering how a pair of Spaniards could speak so easily with a group of Mayan/Inca/Aztec/whatever with no language barriers whatsoever. Even after I assured myself that El Dorado was magic, so _obviously_ they could understand each other, I found myself wondering what would happen when said magic wore off. Was it tied to the city? Etc.  
And then this thing showed up.  
I don't intend for there to be any shipping in this fic, though the close relationship between Miguel and Tulio will be explored, as well as the relationship between Tulio and Chel.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Road to El Dorado, or any of the characters, settings, or plot devices contained therein.

-o-o-o-

The journey had started off well enough; Miguel had apparently stored his machete from their original trek to the golden city somewhere, and having retrieved the (miraculously rust-free) blade had gone gleefully to the work of hacking a path through the jungle. The three had taken turns riding Altivo, which in reality consisted of Chel and Tulio taking turns riding and leading the horse until Miguel was too exhausted to continue razing a path for them, and all had somehow avoided being bitten, stung, poisoned, eaten or otherwise killed by the various jungle creatures.

It was the third day when things started to go downhill. Tulio had begun to complain about his many insect bites and lack of gold, Chel was refusing to get off of the horse as she had already walked _enough_ for today, thank you very much, and Miguel's machete arm was beginning to flag in its enthusiasm. "One more swing," he was muttering under his breath. "One more… there!"

"Look at this!" he whooped, waving over his companions.

Tulio came forward, leading Altivo and the girl perched on his back, grumbling "Miguel, if it's another _rock_ I swear to god I will –" His jaw dropped.

They were standing at the edge of an immense canyon at least a hundred feet across. From the immeasurable depths came the distant roar of falling water, which sent up a spray of mist that made the pit appear bottomless. Birds wheeled and called to each other down there, specks against the dark rocks and white spray. A single, thin rope bridge stretched across, barely fifty feet from where they now stood, a thread stretched over a gaping mouth.

Miguel spread his arms as through trying to encompass the enormity of the thing, and grinned. "Isn't it magnificent?"

"It's amazing," Chel breathed, sounding awestruck. Even Altivo seemed impressed, looking all around in an almost stupefied manner and even moving to the canyon edge in order to looking down before Tulio yanked him back.

"It's a deathtrap," he declared, folding his arms. "And besides, even I remember that this was never on the map. We're going the wrong way, Miguel; let's just turn around and find a safer way –"

"It's an adventure, Tulio," Miguel said, clapping a hand on his partner's shoulder. "Besides, you don't know that this is the wrong way. We're taking the scenic route, that's all."

"_Scenic? _More like deadly. I will _not_ risk my neck unless I've got a cheat in place to save it, and that clearly id not the case here, so – no. Not the face, I will not… stop it, stop it now, or I'll… _fine_!" Tulio threw his arms into the air, dropping Altivo's reins. "If you're that set on killing us all, go ahead! No gold, no living like a king back in Spain to look forward to, I might as well meet my end here." Tulio continued to rant, but picked up Altivo's reins and led him towards the bridge. Miguel followed, a boyish grin on his face.

The footsteps of the two men and the horse on the wooden bridge echoed loudly, but aside from swaying disconcertingly with every step, the bridge seemed solid enough.

"This is the Pit of Echoes," Chel said in a hushed, almost reverential voice, when they were nearly halfway across. Her words bounced off the rock walls strangely, returning to them as though spoken by a host of spirits.

"The what?" Miguel asked, and his voice boomed back like the rage of a god. Tulio stumbled and a grabbed a rope for dear life, nearly dropping the reins.

Chel glared back at him, hands clapped over her ears. "Shh! It's a sacred place. According to the stories, when you cross this bridge, the spirits return to you the voice of your home, whatever that means."

Tulio turned back to look at Chel. "I thought you didn't believe in the gods," he said in a low, amused voice.

"I never said that," she replied, "I just didn't think they'd smite me for taking a little of their gold when they have so much in Shibalba. If they didn't smite you, I think I'm safe." She grinned at Tulio, who smiled back. Chel's smile faded quickly, though. "Anyway, it's spirits I'm worried about right now, not gods. So shush!"

Tulio walked obediently along in silence, trying not to let the sheer enormity of the abyss below him freeze his will and his legs, and focused his eyes on the inviting green ahead. The green that contained god knew what kind of poisonous plants and insects to sting them and hungry man-eating beasts with yellow eyes that watched you from the shadows as you tried to sleep on the hard ground riddled with roots that jabbed into your back and even _more_ insects that crawled all over your exposed skin and into your clothing carrying disease on their little legs and pincers – maybe Miguel was right. Maybe he worried too much. Or, as was much more likely, he worried exactly the right amount. Besides, he was worrying for the entire group; Miguel never stopped to think anything through and Chel, while smarter than Miguel, had the distinct tendency to take whatever opportunity she could without considering the consequences. This though comforted him, and he forgot for a moment about the inestimable depth that lay a mere wood plank's width beneath his feet. For a moment.

The echoes of their steps seemed to fill the space around them, intensifying until it sounded as though an army was coming across the bridge after them. Tulio sped up slightly, Altivo following, and the following army did likewise. Suddenly Tulio was running, flying across the shaky slats of the bridge, and he imagined that he could almost feel the hot breath of the warhorses on his neck, and then –

They were across. Tulio resisted the urge to fall to his knees and kiss the sweet solidity underfoot, and instead mentally berated himself for letting such outlandish thoughts startle him. Miguel's insanity was obviously becoming contagious. At the thought of his partner, Tulio turned to see if the man-child had managed to make his way across the bridge yet, half-expecting him to still be on the other side staring at some 'fascinating' rock or plant. Thankfully this was not the case, although from the shaken look on his companion's face, Tulio reasoned that his earlier though about contagious insanity hadn't been too far off the mark. Resisting the sudden urge to hug that stupid look off of Miguel's face, Tulio settled for moving next to him and clapping his partner on the shoulder. "Having second thoughts about the 'scenic route' already? Come on, Miguel, we'd better get moving if we want to make it back to Spain before next year." He knew that something was wrong when Chel twisted abruptly around to face him, surprise and confusion warring in her expression.

"Tulio?" Miguel asked, and the identical confusion in his eyes set the alarm bells in Tulio's head ringing. What Miguel said next, Tulio had no idea, because it sounded like complete gibberish to him.

Tulio crossed his arms and frowned, as though the physical actions could hold back the panic trying to claw its way out of his chest. "Miguel, this isn't time for one of your pranks. We've been wandering this godforsaken jungle for three days, and we're no closer to getting back to Spain that I can see. So cut it out, and go… do something useful. chop some vegetation or something."

That should have made Miguel laugh. Any other day, it would have made Miguel laugh, and this stupid grin of his would light up his face like the sun, and they would continue to blunder their way onwards and everything would be all right. Instead, a spark of panic joined the confusion in Miguel's eyes, and Tulio felt something twist in his gut. He babbled something questioning, and Tulio thought that he heard his own name, and the word _Español _in there somewhere, but the rest was still nonsense. Miguel seemed to sense this, and the spark of panic in his eyes became a bright spot of terror. He turned to Chel and said something, and Tulio could only watch helplessly as the two of them gabbled at each other. Suddenly, the two were shouting, Miguel pointing an accusing finger at Che, who had dismounted now and was waving her arms angrily, looking offended. Tulio felt his hands ball into fists, threw back his head and poured all of his frustration, fear and confusion into a single word: "_Stop_!"

Thankfully, blessedly, Miguel and Chel seemed to understand his meaning (if not the actual words), and fell silent. For a time, the only sound that could be heard was Tulio's heavy breathing, and the nervous shifting of the horse. When Tulio had finally composed himself, he grabbed Miguel's shirt and pulled him close, trying not to let himself drown in those twin green pools of terror. "This is _not_ Chel's fault," he said, gesturing emphatically. "Got that? It's not her fault, and it's not my fault, and it's not your fault. And even if it is, it doesn't matter, because it's done." There was something that might have been understanding in Miguel's face, and Tulio hoped that some of this was getting through to his partner. "I'm going to fix this," he promised in a low growl, releasing Miguel's shirt. He turned to face Chel, who had an expression of mingled panic and hope that terrified him. "I'm the one with the plans," he said to both of them, "and I'm going to fix this. All right? So we're going to keep going, and we're going to get out of this jungle and back to Spain, and everything is going to be fine. I promise." He stared into both sets of eyes in turn – the dark, deep pools of Chel's and the fragile green trust of Miguel's – and willed them to understand. "I promise."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**: Looking like this is going to be a 3 or 4-part story; will try to have part 3 up by the weekend - stupid essays... Also, square brackets indicate someone is speaking whatever the language of El Dorado is called. Warning - minor het lies ahead! (oh god hown did this happen I ship Tulio/Miguel o-O)

**Disclaimer**: Not mine.

-o-o-o-

Tulio prayed – _really_ prayed, to a god he hadn't believed in since he was a child – that they were heading in the right direction. They had found a freshwater stream not long after leaving the bridge, and following the logic that stream leads to river leads to ocean leads to Spain, had soon found the river that they now camped beside each night.

The tone of their journey had shifted dramatically since the bridge – namely, it was quieter. _Much_ quieter. Miguel and Chel were mostly silent, except for occasional discussions in a low murmur scarcely discernable from the sound of the river, and Tulio didn't exactly have anyone to talk to. He hadn't realized how used he was to Miguel's inane chatter, their easy banter and the opportunity to comment dryly on the latest crazy idea to come upon his partner, until now that it was denied him completely. It had been bad enough in El Dorado when Miguel wasn't speaking to him, but at least then he had been able to talk to Chel, or the Chief, or the villagers, and be understood. Now... goddammit, he missed even that.

It was even worse when they camped for the night. Chel, being the most knowledgeable about what plants wouldn't kill them instantly, would take Miguel with her into the woods. He, by virtue of being able to understand what she was saying, helped her collect food for them every night. This left Tulio alone at the campsite to build a fire as best he could and attempt to catch fish. As fire-building rarely took more than a few minutes and his companions were often as not gone for at least two hours, this meant a lot of fruitless fishing attempts and silent waiting. Tulio had never felt this alone, this frustrated, this helpless. At night they drew straws for watch shifts, and Tulio would spend his staring up at the unfamiliar patterns the stars made as he tried not to think about yellow eyes watching him from the shadows, or brown eyes warm with lust, or green eyes sparkling with innocent mischief, or blue eyes filling up with despair a drop a day. He tried very hard not to think about eyes at all.

It was on the third night that Tulio drew third watch, and Chel woke him from fitful sleep at what he fancied might be three in the morning (three threes, he thought with only the slightest knife-edge of hysteria). He stood, tried without success to brush the dirt off of his now-dingy blue shirt and brown vest, and placed a hand on Chel's shoulder in thanks. She kissed him on the cheek, and Tulio wished that he could talk to her, tell her – but she was already snuggling herself down under Altivo's horse-smelling blanket, and the moment was gone. Tulio settled himself down on a rock by the river, began the fight to keep his eyes open and alert, and tried for the thousandth time to find a solution to this insane problem. Is _was_ insane, Tulio knew – how could two people speak perfect Spanish one minute, and something else the next?

How could they leave him alone like this?

A sudden noise shattered Tulio's melancholy and he tensed, mind racing to formulate a plan that would keep them safe from – The sound came again, and it was strangely familiar. It took a moment for memory to return and attach meaning to the sound, but when it did Tulio was already levering himself off of the rock and making his careful way to Miguel's sleeping form in the dark. He was whimpering in his sleep, curled like a child, the sheen of sweat on his forehead silver in the moonlight. Nightmares, Tulio thought with a guilty start. Miguel hadn't had nightmares since... it had to have been at least ten years. They had come to him every night when the two had first teamed up, but had quickly decreased in frequency to once a fortnight, once a month, once a year. Tulio had never asked; they hadn't known each other well enough then, and Miguel never brought up the subject. But now... it had to be this situation, the stress and whatnot, bringing them back.

"God damn it," Tulio whispered, slamming his fist into the soft ground next to his sleeping partner. His arm shook, and there was something in his eye, damn it all.

Miguel was whimpering more loudly, almost forming words. "Please... please, no..." Tulio reached over to pull the blanket higher over Miguel's form, and then froze as realization struck him.

Spanish. Miguel was speaking Spanish. "Miguel!" he hissed, shaking his friend's shoulder. "Miguel, can you understand what I'm saying? God damn it, wake up! Can you understand me?"

Miguel groaned, rolling away from Tulio. "'Course I can, Tulio," he said, voice thick with sleep. "What're you talking –" Green eyes shot open, sleep clearing from them to show astonished joy. He scrambled to sit up, then grabbed Tulio's shoulders and pulled him into a hug, exclaiming happily... in gibberish.

Tulio felt his shoulders slump with disappointment. Had he imagined Miguel speaking Spanish, was three days really long enough for him to start hallucinating? And yet, Miguel had to have understood him as well, considering the outburst he was being subjected to...

When Tulio didn't return his excited babble, Miguel pulled away from the hug. "Tulio?" His eyes were bright, searching.

Tulio turned away, unable to face his partner. "I'm sorry, Miguel," he said, trying not to sound as defeated as he felt. He turned back to Miguel, trying to mask the despair in his face and eyes. "I'm sure..." he trailed off at the sight of his friend, the joy dissipating from his expression. Miguel sat back, something hollow in his posture, and Tulio felt the knife that had been tearing at his insides ever since the bridge twist. This wasn't the Miguel he knew, but what could he do? He settled for laying what he hoped was a reassuring hand on Miguel's shoulder. "You were speaking Spanish, I know you were. That's a step in the right direction." He injected as much hope into his voice as he could, considering how low his personal supplies were. "I said I'd fix this, and I will. I just need more time to plan."_ And some sort of idea as to how this insanity happened._ "Go back to sleep." He gently pushed Miguel down, and the gold-haired man obediently curled on the ground. Some of the hollowness was gone, masked by exhaustion. He looked up at Tulio, childlike, some of that fragile hope returned to his gaze. He said something in gibberish, and although he couldn't understand the exact words, Tulio heard the trust and the tremor of fear in his partner's voice. He reached down and, hesitantly, brushed a lock of gold hair out of Miguel's eyes. "Go to sleep," he repeated softly, and returned, frustrated and hopeful, to his watch.

-o-o-o-

Ten days of silence, and Tulio found that he couldn't take it anymore. He was still talking to Miguel and Chel as though they could understand him, but now he was also talking to himself as they made their way through the thick jungle along the meandering river, and imagining what Miguel might say in return. Chel had taken to giving him worried glances when she thought he wasn't looking, and it was beginning to worry him that he didn't really care. Miguel's nightmares had continued to appear every night, and Tulio almost felt guilty that he had started cheating to make sure that he always had third watch, just so that he could hear a voice other than his own that he could understand.

So, to try and distract himself from the problem, he had started trying to teach Chel and Miguel to speak Spanish. Chel was a quick learner and already forming broken sentences after a few days of instruction, but every time Miguel tried to learn it seemed as though the words couldn't stick, as though they were carried out of his mind like leaves on a stream. Chel attempted to translate from time to time, but her Spanish was so limited that Tulio could barely understand her when she was trying to say something simple like "I'm hungry", or "the fire is going out." Anything more complex than that (and in many cases, things that were less so) tended to be accompanied by wild hand gestures and exaggerated tone, and still took an infuriatingly long time to be understood. Tulio was beginning to recognize a few of the words in whatever language it was that Chel and Miguel were speaking, although the snail's pace at which he was acquiring it was almost as frustrating as Miguel at his most idiotically enthusiastic. No matter how well Chel was doing or how many words he could recognize, however, Tulio felt… wrong. Words were his life, his career – words had gotten him into and out of all kinds of fantastic trouble, had made a city believe him a god. Words were supposed to be the tool with which he shaped the world to his needs, and now he was reduced to phrases an idiot would laugh at. It was humiliating, it was frustrating… and it was lonely.

That night, when Chel woke him for his watch, she did not shake him. He woke to the sensation of her lips on his forehead, opened his eyes to a softly smiling face and dark eyes brimming with something that needed no words to express. She bent and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, and for a moment, he kissed back. He wanted this, dear god he wanted this, but…

He pulled away, reluctant to give up that warmth, and shook his head. "Chel… I can't. Not now, I – I need to fix this." He pressed his fingers to his lips, then to hers, and looked over to where Miguel was sleeping. "It's not… once this is over, Chel, I swear –" he was cut off by Chel pressing two fingers to his lips in an echo of his own action, a sad smile on her lips and an unreadable expression in her eyes. Once she was certain that he would be quiet she sat back, kneeling on the forest floor, and spread her arms like wings. It took Tulio a moment to realize that she was miming something, some great space, or perhaps…

"The canyon, the bridge?" Tulio asked. Yes, this had all happened after they had crossed the bridge. His mind raced back. Chel had mentioned something about voices… "[Spirits do?]" he asked in her language, stumbling over the unfamiliar words and indicating his mouth.

Chel nodded vigorously, and began to babble so quickly that any words Tulio might have recognized were completely lost in the flood of language. She seemed to recognize this, however, and stopped suddenly. She frowned and thought for a few minutes and then, in heavily accented Spanish, said, "We... Shibalba place near look?" At Tulio's obvious confusion, she tried again. "[Spirit] place? Talk... to give?"

Tulio thought that he might be getting the gist of what she was saying, and felt an unreleased sigh like lead in his chest. Find a holy place? Talk to the spirits? _That_ was her solution? "Chel, there's no such thing as spirits. [No spirits], Chel. Even if there were, why would they help us? If you hadn't noticed, we pretended to be _gods_, and I don't think that would exactly endear us to any of your spirits."

Chel seemed to sense Tulio's disbelief, and reached out a hand to smack him upside the head.

"Ow!" Tulio protested, rubbing at his head. Chel didn't look even remotely sorry. "That _hurt_, what was that for?"

"[Spirits]!" she said emphatically, followed by a long stream of gibberish punctuated by painful jabs of her finger into his chest.

"Okay, okay!" Tulio said, throwing up his hands in surrender. "[Spirits]! Now stop hitting me!"

Chel obliged, a slightly smug expression on her face. "Watch," she said, pointing at the darkened jungle. It was one of the first words that she had learned, along with 'jungle', 'danger', 'fire', 'food', and various colourful curses from when Tulio became frustrated at the pace of the learning.

Tulio stood, and then bent back down to plant a chaste kiss on Chel's lips. As he did so, she took hold of him and pulled him into a deeper one. This time, however, she was the first to pull away. Her hand lingered a moment on his cheek, and then she was gone. Alone, Tulio found a stump to sit on, and stared into the darkness with a racing mind and the sweetness of Chel still on his lips.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** It's totally still the weekend. Sunday night counts as the weekend, right?

Also, I totally just figured out how to do the line-break thing. LOLFAIL.

* * *

Over the next few days, Tulio found himself spending a disturbing amount of time seriously considering Chel's theory. Spirits didn't exist, he knew that; it was completely irrational to believe in such things. And yet, it was completely irrational to believe that someone could speak Spanish one minute and gibberish the next. So really, maybe it was logical that an irrational event would be caused by something that, in a rational world, couldn't exist.

Maybe he had gone insane, and the past few weeks (had it really been weeks?) had been some fever dream, when in reality he was unconscious on Altivo's back, or in El Dorado, or on Cortes' ship. Either that, or it was some sort of bizarre be-careful-what-you-wish-for scenario – how many times had he wished to be free of Miguel's incessant chatter? It was possible, really; if he was seriously considering the idea that some _spirits_ on a _bridge_ had caused the sudden language gap, anything was.

Maybe he was dead, and this was some sort of special Hell reserved just for him. It would explain the insects. And the lack of gold.

Chel had promised to tell him if she noticed any 'sacred' places as they floundered through the jungle, bur Tulio had found two rather large flaws in that plan about twenty minutes into their hike: first, the people of El Dorado apparently never bothered to leave their city (as evidenced by Chel's rather insane escape plan), so why would they build a temple or have any sacred sites outside of it? Second, they were _literally_ lost in the woods at this point, stumbling blindly about in the hopes of finding Cortes' ship again, so what were their chances of finding one of these places completely by accident? Slim to none, that's what. Thinking about that of course led to thinking about other problems, like how exactly they were supposed to get onto Cortes' ship unnoticed and stay that way until they hit Spain, but since thinking about _that_ gave him a strong urge to beat his head against the nearest tree until he passed out, Tulio tried to focus on the problem at hand (which really wasn't much better from a head-banging perspective, but at least it was more immediate). Of course, he never was able to communicate these worries to Chel, so Tulio was stuck discussing it with the only person who would listen: himself. And occasionally Altivo, since the horse could probably understand him as well as Chel or Miguel, at this point.

And so, it came as a complete surprise to him when, on the third day of trekking, brooding and potential insanity, Chel suddenly shouted in surprise, pointing into the thick brush and calling Tulio's name from her perch on Altivo's back.

Tulio snapped out of his reverie and stared in the direction Chel was indicating. Miguel, riding behind Chel, was attempting to peer around her without falling off. Tulio sighed. "Chel, it's a tree. What's so –" He broke off. There was something carved into the tree, just barely visible under the vines and mosses draping its trunk, and something about the way it was shaped made Tulio flash back to El Dorado, and the temple there...

And suddenly it was like a light flicked on inside his head. It wasn't just the tree, but _all_ of the trees around them. Carved on each was a snakelike figure, and all were looking in the same direction.

"Tulio?" Miguel's voice was concerned; he knew Tulio well enough to understand that it was rarely a good sign when his partner stopped like that.

Tulio turned around to face them. _This is the only plan we've got._ "I'll be right back," he assured them, and sprinted off into the jungle. He ignored Chel and Miguel calling after him – the former spouting gibberish that he had neither the time nor the inclination to attempt to translate, the latter simply calling his name in an increasingly frantic manner – and did his best to ignore his own misgivings concerning the sanity of his actions.

Too soon for any of his anxiety to have fled, Tulio reached what he supposed was his destination: an imposing cliff wall, dripping with clinging vines and moss which hung down in a curtain over a small cave mouth. He approached the cave warily, and when he got closer saw that the snakelike figure had been carved into the cliff wall on either side of the cave entrance. Tulio glanced back over his shoulder; he could still faintly hear Chel calling his name as she struggled with Altivo through the thick undergrowth, and for a moment he hesitated. Then Miguel's voice joined Chel's, and the moment was past. Tulio brushed aside the dangling vines and, taking a deep breath, stepped into the cave.

It was dark inside, stiflingly warm and humid, and every step Tulio took was echoed back to him so many times that he found it impossible to shake the disquieting feeling that someone – or some_thing_ – was following him. With no real idea of where he was going and unable to see more than a few feet in front of him even so close to the entrance, Tulio stumbled blindly forward in the gloom. He tripped and cursed through endless twisting passageways, at some points forced to crawl, at others surrounded by a sense of such immense space that his blood ran chill and he scurried forwards so quickly that the echoes of his footsteps became a ghostly army. The sound of dripping water became more and more pronounced the farther he went in, and soon Tulio heard splashing echoed back to him with every step, the sound almost deafening in the blackness.

After what felt like an eternity, Tulio realized that he could see vague outlines of the stone walls surrounding him, and in desperation he broke into a run. After a few heart-pounding moments, the tunnel opened out into a wide open space – a huge underground lake, lit dimly by the sunlight which managed to filter down from a hole in the rocky ceiling. The water was perfectly still with no breeze to ruffle its waters, and the dim sunlight sparkled like a golden ball lost in the dark center of the lake. There were carvings on the walls, all around the lake, but the light was too low for Tulio to make out any more than vague, serpentine figures. Despite the stifling heat, a cold shiver made its way down Tulio's spine.

"Hello?" he asked, carefully taking a step forward. He voice was reflected back to him in a multitude of ways, almost as if a crowd were responding. Even alone in a dark cave, Tulio didn't want to admit to _anyone_ that he was maybe a little, tiny, _teensy_ bit creeped out. Because he wasn't. At all. Right.

His foot sank into cold water and he stumbled backwards, cursing loudly – though at the cold or at himself for being so childish was debateable. Aside from an echoing splash and a disturbance in the mirror-smooth surface of the lake, nothing happened.

Tulio gritted his teeth. This was moronic. He had run blindly into this godforsaken cave, had just _left_ Chel and Miguel alone in the jungle where they were in all probability being eaten by a jaguar or something equally unpleasant, and for what? The infinitesimal, infinitely idiotic hope that something in this place would solve his problems for him?

Tulio waded out into the lake, arms thrashing furiously, anger propelling him forwards. "What the hell am I supposed to do?" he screamed, up to his knees in the icy water. All at once, the rage was sucked out of him, leaving behind only the despair that it had been holding back for weeks. As if his anger took with it his strength, Tulio fell to his hands and knees, feeling the cold soak into him up to the shoulders, his nose nearly touching the obsidian surface of the lake.

"Goddammit," he whispered. He was such a fool. "I… I just want my partner back." He waited a moment longer for a response, but - _of course, you moron, there's no such thing as spirits._ - nothing happened. Drained, hollow, Tulio dragged himself back to his feet and turned to leave.

Something grabbed his foot.

Tulio froze, part of his mind whirring away in a desperate attempt to formulate a plan but most of it simply shrieking in primal terror. The moment of hesitation was enough; whatever had a hold on his leg _jerked_, and suddenly Tulio was completely immersed in the dark water.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** So, here it is. Far, _far_ too late, but finally finished.

It's been a crazy ride, guys. This story's been one that's tugged at my mind for a long time, but I always struggled with how I was going to end it - I had an idea in mind, but never the confidence to write it properly. All my thanks to everyone who read this and who commented and who continued to hope, especially The Twice-ler and Breathless Ivory. Thank you for believing in me.

I'm not sure if it's the perfect ending, but it's here. I hope I don't disappoint. Thank you all again for your amazing patience, and your faith.

-o-o-o-

Tulio inhaled reflexively as he was pulled under, and as the cold lake water flooded his lungs Tulio realized he was going to die. _Well, that rules out hell, at least_, he found himself thinking.

The pressure escalated, and that combined with the lack of oxygen made everything go black for a moment, and then – Tulio inhaled another lungful of water, and to his disbelief realized that he wasn't, in fact, dead. Quite the opposite, in fact; when the water rushed into his lungs Tulio felt his head begin to clear, almost as if –

He was breathing underwater. The simple impossibility of this fact struck Tulio so hard that for a moment, the gears in his head stopped turning, and there was only pure astonishment. Then, before his suddenly fragile grasp of what was possible and what wasn't could recover, something happened that shattered it completely.

Tulio could do nothing but watch as the water before him churned, and slowly began to recognize that a figure was forming in the chaos. Soon, he found himself facing a huge serpent of swirling water, its eyes deep and dark, as captivating and terrifying as whirlpools. He felt like a rabbit caught in its gaze, fight and flight equally impossible but both instincts warring within him nonetheless and keeping him paralyzed.

_The one you call your partner is with you already. We cannot return what has not been taken._

The serpent's voice – if something so immense could be called a voice – seemed to echo inside Tulio's head, vibrating through the water, through his body. He had never felt so small, not even in front of Tzekel-Kan's jaguar. He had been able to forget about that, rationalize it away into something that made _sense_, but faced with something like this... Well, it was getting harder to completely discredit the theory that he was dead, or insane, or both. Maybe this was all just some crazy dream. It had to be. And if it was a dream... Well. Then things didn't have to make sense. Realizing this made some of the panic choking him abate, and finally, _finally_, he could think again.

Tulio took a deep breath, feeling the water swirl disconcertingly into his lungs. Would he even be able to speak, underwater? But if the dream logic held... "Sure he's there, but I can't even talk to him! What the hell did you do to him?"

The serpent seemed confused – more dream-logic, how in the hell was Tulio expected to be able to read the emotions of a _snake_?

_The woman told you of the Pit of Echoes. The spirits returned his voice._

"That doesn't make any _sense_!" Tulio retorted, throwing up his hands. "Miguel's from _Spain_, like me. Obviously these 'spirits' made some sort of mistake!"

_We do not make mistakes._

The serpent's voice was firm, threatening, even, and the water began to swirl around it like a whirlpool. Even knowing that this had to be a dream, Tulio found himself getting nervous. He folded his hands behind his back, trying to adopt a more servile posture, though it was difficult to do while floating. "I... Didn't mean to offend, of course, but obviously _something_'s gone wrong here."

The serpent was silent for some time, the waters around it calming almost to the point of stillness. Tulio fought the urge to fidget, or to ask more questions, and just as his frustration was about to hit the breaking point, the serpent spoke once more.

_The spirits say that the one you call partner is... Strange. He does not consider his homeland his home. They returned to him the voice of the place he felt was most like home._

"You mean- Miguel picked _El Dorado_ over Spain?" Tulio asked, incredulous, but even as he spoke, uncomfortable memories began to prick at him. They were wanderers and thieves, sure, and they'd never really settled down in one place long enough to call it home. People chased them out, kicked them when they were down, and thrown them in jail, but Tulio had never thought of any place other than Spain as his home. And yet, in El Dorado... Miguel had almost stayed. Almost. "...He's my partner," Tulio said; there wasn't anything else he could say.

The serpent was silent, water swirling gently around it, and Tulio felt as though those dark, unfathomably deep eyes were staring straight through him. "He's my _partner_!" Tulio repeated, more frustrated now. "He left that place for me, doesn't that mean _anything_?" The serpent did not respond, and Tulio's frustration mounted until he couldn't help shouting. "Answer me, damn it!"

Silence. The water swirled, and Tulio realized that the serpent wasn't quite as visible as it had been a moment before. "No, wait-" he tried to say, but then coughed; the water in his mouth didn't feel comforting anymore, just cold, and choking. He couldn't breathe.

Frantically, Tulio began to swim, in the direction he hoped was up, his lungs burning and the water rushing in his ears, nothing like words. Blackness wavered at the edge of his vision but he fought against it, fought as hard as he could, swimming with everything he had. But he had no air in his lungs, and no matter how he fought, finally, the blackness closed in with a rushing feeling almost like relief.

-o-o-o-

Tulio came to slowly, with a pounding head and a mouth like a desert, soaking wet but alive. Water lapped gently at his ankles as he sat up, coughing reflexively but not feeling anything in his lungs other than sweet, sweet air – he was alive. He looked around, disoriented; he was still in the cave, at the edge of the lake. Had he passed out?

Tulio pushed himself to his feet slowly, carefully, but nothing seemed to be out of place. No broken limbs, no cracked skull, not even any bruises, so far as he could tell. The strange dream he'd had while out still lingered at the back of his mind, but he ignored it – dreams weren't going to fix his problems, and neither was this old cave. It had been a stupid, impulsive move anyway. Apparently, without Miguel to talk to, Tulio had started taking on some of his partner's less helpful characteristics. With a sigh, and a last look at the calm surface of the lake, Tulio brushed himself off and started for the entrance.

He wasn't even halfway out before he heard voices, Chel and Miguel calling his name. Their voices echoed through the cave oddly, making it sound almost like there was an army of them searching for him. "I'm in here!" Tulio called, hurrying back along the path he had taken, as best he remembered. The calling of his name didn't stop; it didn't seem like they'd heard him, which made Tulio press on even faster – knowing Miguel, he'd get both himself and Chel so lost in the caves that none of them would ever find their way out.

Finally, he saw a flash of gold – sunlight, reflected off of Miguel's hair where his partner waited near the entrance with Chel. Both of them dashed forwards when they saw Tulio – Chel a little bit behind with Altivo's reins in hand.

Miguel was the first to crash into Tulio, pulling his partner into a tight hug. Tulio suddenly couldn't find the strength to respond, the strength in his legs abruptly giving out. "Tulio?" Miguel asked, sounding concerned.

"I'm sorry," Tulio said, a note of defeat in his voice that even Miguel probably wouldn't miss. "This was a stupid idea. How the hell are we going to survive, back in Spain, with you like this? Assuming we even survive this damn jungle long enough to get there. I should never have made you leave El Dorado, I'm sorry..."

Chel caught up, leading Altivo and spouting more garbled words that Tulio didn't have the energy to try and translate, as Miguel knelt down next to Tulio, hands on his partner's shoulders. "Tulio."

"I suppose I should be glad, really, that you can't understand me calling myself an idiot like this-"

"Tulio." Miguel's voice was firmer, now, and something about it made Tulio look up into his partner's face. Miguel looked surprised, and still worried, but he was also... Smiling? "I think the only thing you need to apologize for is running into this cave without a word to us, partner."

Tulio stopped, the gears in his brain having ground to a halt the moment Miguel spoke. When he finally could think again, he reached up and grabbed Miguel's shoulders, and then his hair, his face. "You can- you can understand me? This isn't another idiotic dream, is it?"

Miguel just laughed, pulling Tulio back into a hug. "It's like... Someone flipped a switch in my brain, I can understand you again! What did you do?"

"I... I don't know," Tulio said, a little bit shaken, but this time having the presence of mind to hug Miguel back, letting go after a few seconds. His dream came back to him, suddenly, but he didn't know how to put it into words without sounding like a complete lunatic.

Suddenly, Chel tapped Tulio on the shoulder, shoving a gold necklace dripping with jewels at him. He didn't even bother to ask where she'd been keeping it, this time, just accepted it and stared at it while Chel said something too fast for Tulio to understand, though he did catch the words 'spirits' and 'idiot'.

"She says that you should go and thank them," Miguel translated, noticing the look on Tulio's face.

Tulio could only stare at the necklace. It was worth enough to feed all three of them for half a year, a year if they haggled well enough and were a little bit stingy with the portions. "You want me to go back in _there_- wait, you can understand her?"

Miguel shrugged, the gesture indicating more than any words could exactly how much his partner was at a loss. "So it would seem. Go on, then. We can wait a little bit longer."

Tulio wanted to argue, but in the face of Chel's stern expression and Miguel's barely containable excitement, it wouldn't be any use. "Fine, but if I die in there, it's on both of you. Good luck surviving out there without me."

"Oh, we wouldn't dream of it," Miguel replied, as Chel made shooing motions at Tulio.

The trip back to the cavern seemed shorter, this time, less fraught with peril. There were no ghosts biting at his heels, no phantoms dogging his steps. It was just a cave, massive and impressive, but a cave nonetheless. Finally, the telltale sound of dripping water and the chill seeping into his shoes told Tulio that he was almost there – and then finally, once more, he stepped out into the cavern with the lake.

The water was still, as mirror-smooth and dark as it had been when he first found it. Tulio looked at the necklace in his hand, briefly wondering whether Chel would notice if he just pocketed it to sell when they got back to Spain. Then, with a heavy sigh, he drew back his arm and threw it as far as he could.

The necklace fell almost at the exact centre of the lake, the splash echoing like thunder around the cavern, and then... Nothing. Tulio was disappointed, though he didn't know why; he shouldn't have expected anything. Within seconds, the lake was smooth again, with no sign that anything had every disturbed its surface. Tulio sighed, turned, and left. There was no sound from behind him except for the gentle drip-drip-drip of water, and even that faded as he left the lake behind.

Finally, back at the entrance, Tulio was greeted by Miguel, Chel, and Altivo – the latter knocking his shoulder gently with an irritated expression until Tulio reached up to scratch his ears with a long-suffering sigh. They paused just outside the cave, and Tulio looked back to see the snakelike carvings, half-hidden beneath the vines, twining up the sides of the opening. For a moment, he allowed himself to wonder.

Then, Chel reached up on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek before swinging herself up onto Altivo's back and starting off with a whoop of joy, and Miguel paused to clap Tulio on the shoulder before running off after her. The moment broken, Tulio rolled his eyes theatrically and started off after them at a run.

It was time to go home.


End file.
